


Lost the touch

by Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Corruption, Emotions, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25187626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves/pseuds/Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves
Summary: Tarn realizes his leader, Megatron, has left them and the cause. Since the autobots have stolen from him, he was going to take something from them.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Lost the touch

**Author's Note:**

> this is for someone on tumblr, hope you enjoy.

Tarn held shame for his past. Shame for the lengths he went to for his previous master. His dear, his wonderful, his stunning Megatron. Unfortunately, he was dead. Not physically, but he might as well be, for he was dead for the cause. The cause he started, the cause he fought and killed for. It was a shame, how the flame in his master’s spark had been doused. Tarn thought, upon hearing the news, that perhaps, he could take the reigns, do what Megatron couldn't. Tarn severely overestimated himself, and found himself lacking in the skillset of his previous founder. He knew he was pathetic, but he didn't think he needed to ‘constantly worship someone’ pathetic. Oh well, you cant help your true nature at times, he supposed. He sat there in his office, scowling and scrolling through his data pad. He needed someone to idolize. Someone to deserve his tributes and adorations. But who? Who could be so passionate, who could blaze the path to victory like the brightest of fires? Who could-

“Wait.”

Tarn halted once he saw that face. Tarn had learned that Megatron had not only left his cause, but left them for a bunch of autobots. Some fools who boarded a ship known as the Lost Light. He was making his list, coincidently facing his turmoil, when he saw him. That fresh red paint, that smooth, long face, the defined nose, the confident smirk, and most importantly, those optics. Those optics screamed ‘rebellion’, ‘determination’, and ‘fury’. Tarn had one look at him, and just knew he was the one. He was worth going onto his knees for,worth giving him his all. A leader, that prodded in the right direction, could very easily take the helm of the decepticons, and lead their way into glory. His only real fault was that dumb, red, blemish of an autobot symbol, plastered right on his chest. Not to worry. He wouldn't fail him the same as he did Megatron. He would make him see the light. Even if he did so by rather...unconventional methods. Lucky for Tarn, the decepticons were anything but conventional. 

\--------------------

"How is he faring?"

"He's fascinating, sir."

Kaon replied. His fingers skimmed across the monitors, and he pulled up the screen for Tarn. Despite not being able to see, Kaon was surprisingly akin to his surroundings, and was able to catch things even the fair sighted couldn't catch. Honestly, Tarn almost forgot he was lacking in optics. Tarn leaned over him as he glanced at the screen. Their target was held up in his new cell, sitting on the floor, bored. He held his chin in his hand, and snapped his fingers over and over, causing a small flame to appear on his thumb. He didn't look scared nor panicked, like many did in their midsts, but rather...bored.

"Huh. That's definitely a new reaction. Do you think this is him being foolish, or confident?"

"Is both an option?"

Tarn softly chuckled. Fair enough point.

"Keep an optic on everything. I'm going to get started. Keep yourself on the line."

Kaon nodded, and listened for Tarn, opening the door for him, and shutting it behind him. Tarn stood there in the room, watching the smaller mech sit there. He was aware of his presence, he saw it in the twitch of his spoilers. Yet, he didn't turn to face him, merely continued on.

"You're probably wondering why you're here."

“You know what, no, totally not. I was totally under the assumption you guys are like, part of my fan club. My really weird and obsessive fan club.”

“In a way, you aren’t too far off course.”

This forced Rodimus to whip his head around wildly, clearly a bit surprised. There was a moment of silence, before rodimus piped up again, shoulders tensed.

“I...I think I know what's going on.”

“Oh? Well, you are quite the clever little thing. I-”

“And like, I’m flattered, really I’m flattered, but like, nah.”

“W...what? What do you think I’m intending?”

“That we’re banging?”

“I...no. Just, no.”  
“Oh, then I’m fully lost, I have no fucking clue whats going on.”

“Then allow me to explain. We have lost our dear, dear Megatron under poor influences-”

“I mean, yeah that sounds like me in all honesty.”

Tarn was starting to second guess his choice. He sighed, and took another step towards the mech.

“Quite. Now, if I may continue. We are lost without a leader, searching amongst the darkness for purpose. Hence, we need a leader. That leader shall be you.”

“OH. Oh okay. That’s nice and all, really I’m flattered, you’re a real sweet spark, but it’s not happening.”

“This is what I’d thought you’d say. So, I’m going to show you things in a different light.”

”Making it sound like I don’t have a choice, con man.”

“Oh, you don’t.”

Tarn leaned down and swooped Rodimus off the floor, causing the other to yelp.

“H-hey! Put me the HELL down!”

He expected thrashing, and kept a firm grasp on him, turning to bring him to the table in the room. Once he slammed him down, he held him down with one hand, using the other to try to hook him up to the machine. Do you recall when Tarn mentioned his previous hesitations in regards to his new choice of leader? Well, Rodimus proved himself more than worthy. Rodimus didn’t just thrash against him, didn’t just swear at him furiously (and quite the variety he might add), didn’t just snarl at him with dentae of a wild animal, but forced his entire body aflame. Tarn could only recall one pain comparable to this, and that was when he realized his Megatron had abandoned them. Despite how badly it hurt, despite how badly the flames lashed and lavished his frame, despite the multiple warnings his HUB gave, pleading at him to move away and find a means of cooling down, Tarn would rather have this, than have their cause fall into redundancy and despair. 

“Stop. Squirming. This’ll last but a moment.”

Tarn even turned on his voice mod in hopes to tame this creature, to no avail. No matter how much Tarn tried, no matter how much the other’s spark quivered, he was ever the inferno; roaring, powerful, passionate. Tarn was in love. Not in the same way he loved his Megatron, but loved in a way of adoration and awe. What a worthy, fearsome leader he will be. Tarn forced himself to plug him in, praising that the machine resisted the heat, and flicked it on. The effect wasn’t as immediate as he hoped, but Tarn held fast, refusing to give up on him, on his cause. Tarn watched the look in his optics, watched as his body slowly gave into the dark energon’s effects. While dark energon was unconventional, even unethical, sometimes one needed just that extra push. The frame below him stopped its thrashing, but the flames only grew in its strength. It was agony upon his metal, but he was refusing to move. Afterall, how dare he disrespect his new leader?  
\-------------------------

“You know, it’s funny. You think, ‘oh, he’s just a fine little ride, nothing to worry about’, just SECONDS before your death. Ain’t that just some irony?”

Rodimus’s fury knew absolutely no bounds. His conquest of not only the lost light, but all of Cybertron, was rapid, almost unrealistic. His bloodlust was just as relentless, as Windblade’s carcass fell to the floor. She had FINALLY ceased her annoying whimpering (killing one's friend right in front of them will do that to you he supposed), and that was just the very beginning. His former crew looked upon him, and Rodimus couldn't help but cackle. It was a mix of fear, hatred, and even concern. Oh they loved him. Such a shame they didn't love him enough. Not the same type of love that his new crew had for him anyway. Rodimus looked around his former crew of bounded, gagged, pathetic bots. He locked optics with his prey of choice, and motioned for Tarn to bring him forward (he found the idea of Tarn watching his former leader’s suffering to be just delicious). Megatron grunted as Tarn pulled him forward, looking up at Rodimus. Tarn removed the gag, and Megatron still chose not to speak. No matter, he could do all the talking for them both. Rodimus held onto his chin, forcing him to look up at him.

“Megatron, I’ve been thinking about you. I mean, not as much as Tarn, Tarn has issues, but I’ve been thinking about you.”

Megatron gave him a look that almost seemed wanting, pleading. Megatron was no saint, to that he will admit, but he had enough good in his spark to know this wasn't Rodimus. The Rodimus he knew was vibrant, abrasive, all wrapped up in a trusting bundle. This was the same mech that gave him his word. The same mech that gave him a chance to write his former wrongs. Despite just how wonderful the little prime was, dark energon had sunk his hooks into him. Dark energon was a material that devoured you from the inside out, using your insecurities to eat away at your strength. He could read so much from Rodimus, based on the atrocities he had just committed. He could tell others opinions and words clung to him, as was evident from the torture of all that had hurt him. Bots that had so much as been rude to him met an untimely demise; Elita one, Chromia, and Windblade. Even Optimus and Starscream were being forced to undergo long, laborious torture, broadcasted amongst every screen available on Cybertron. No one was safe from Rodimus’s fury (This even included the entire council. Bounded, gagged, forced to suffer days of agony before their eventual demise). He could also tell Rodimus felt pity for both himself, and Megatron. Rodimus leaned down, and plucked the autobot badge from his chest, holding it in front of his face.

“Particularly, this. See this autobot insignia means goodness, redemption. It’s something you don’t deserve. Something neither of us do.”

Rodimus watched as the badge went up in flames, and Megatron watched as the mech he once admired, once revered and confided in, left him.

Megatron truly knew what despair felt like.


End file.
